#11 Looking out my winder so very dreary
puts muh mind on better times.
When such weather hailed the return of gawd in fungi form springing about in the shitty storm.
Then when young I dressed myself in khaki loathing the blue jean swarms, a short hair cut had I and glasses thick.
Pulling on a heavy sweater I ventured out into the weather, before the cops and after the thugs
Carrying naught but but a haversack and a reptile catcher perhaps a wire cutter from the army navy store
Into the pastures of the very best I ventured looking for snakes and birds and cow shit
The snakes, the birds, they come they go, but cow shit... after a rain is for evermore.
Often I saw nothing, but rain and cows, but on occasion I saw tits in shit.
And that made all the difference.

That was a long time ago. Things were different then, brain damage wasn't permanent gas was cheap.